Death in the Black Wood, Oliver Davies [short story to read TXT] 📗

McKinnon had sent me an email earlier too, thanking me for the images and letting me know that they’d been sent on to STV to get onto the evening news. With any luck, he might get some phone calls in response to the public appeal to help us identify our victim. If not, we’d just need to pin our hopes on the forensics report, and, after that, anything Shay might be able to find. I hadn’t asked him to start any searches yet because I was hoping for more information first. There was no point in wasting his time on a job like that until it became clear he was the only hope we had. As expected, there was nothing in from the forensics team yet, but I knew some of them would be pulling overtime over the weekend, so I was hopeful for at least a preliminary report by Monday.

Throwing myself into a data search that required a high level of focus had helped me to keep my thoughts off the new murder case, but now that I’d stopped again all of my anxieties were resurfacing. I kind of wished I hadn’t read through some of the stuff Shay had sent me after dinner yesterday. I’d read up on a great many serial killers over the years myself, but I’d never come across a lot of the studies and papers that my cousin had passed my way. I’d known that he was far more aware of the numbers and types of monsters who walked among us than I was, but if what I’d read was just a sample of what he carried around in his head, then I certainly didn’t envy him.

“Well, no,” he’d told me, when I’d finished reading through it all and he was ready to head off to sleep, “I hardly ever think about any of those cases. It’s not healthy to dwell on that kind of thing. Still, it’s useful to have all the information to hand when it’s needed and, after all, it’s not as if any of it is new. We’ve had some very sick people among us all throughout human history.”

His attitude made sense, I supposed. Shay simply didn’t spend time thinking about ‘unpleasant’ things unless he thought there was something useful to be gained by doing so. I suppose anyone with a memory like his would need to build similar filters and coping mechanisms, or they’d have fallen apart years ago.

Historical killers such as Gilles de Rais, Countess Elizabeth Báthory, Jack the Ripper, Albert Fish, Fritz Haarmann, and the Butcher of Rostov, to name but a few of the most infamous culprits, backed up his statement that the psychopaths and psychotics had always been among us, and we had no idea how many countless thousands of them had never even been noticed. If a certain percentage of people were going to become that mentally ill, then it was only reasonable that growing population figures would also proportionally increase the number of such killers. All I could do was hope that medical advances would one day allow such problems to be diagnosed and treated before they could turn their sufferers into yet more statistics on the criminally insane. I mean it wasn’t as if we were talking about going Clockwork Orange on anyone. Chemical problems could be chemically treated without anyone needing to go that far.

My phone buzzing pulled me out of my dreary thoughts. Caitlin had reached the checkout. She’d been quick too, it was only just after six. I shut down my office and packed up my stuff. Mike had already left by then so I locked up behind me as I went out.

After dropping her off and helping her in with her bags it was a quick drive home and I was in well before seven. Da and Shay were both in the kitchen, and I could hear them laughing over something in there. The house felt warm, welcoming and wonderful to come back to. The smells coming from their direction were promising too.

I went to dump off my lunch bag before heading up to shower and found Shay sitting with his laptop at the kitchen table. Da was over by the cooker, idly stirring something, and I could hear Liam’s voice coming from the speaker. Ah. That explained the laughter.

“… so yeah, that went really well,” I heard him say, sarcastically, before I moved into view, “Oh, hi, Conall. I was just telling these two about our five days down at Pocklington. Remind me why it’s a bad idea to take undergraduates anywhere next time I mention volunteering to run another field trip like that.” I grinned.

“Let me guess, they overindulged at the local pub every night? Did one of them throw up on a priceless relic?” I teased as Shay tipped the screen back a little so I could straighten up a bit.

“Hell, no!” he said indignantly. “Not on my bloody watch! But I made the worst two scrub their own rooms out before we left. I wasn’t leaving that job to the poor housekeeping staff.”

Remembering some of his own youthful escapades, I couldn’t muster much sympathy at the thought of Liam having to babysit the young idiots. Karma could be a bitch.

“You just get in?” he asked. “Clocking up some overtime again?”

“No, I just got held up a bit helping a friend out with a shopping run. I’d better go up and shower and change now too. Group call on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, everyone’s still in, as far as I know. Jen was making noises about maybe popping over your way next month too.” He smirked a little as he saw my face light up at the prospect. “Maybe she’s got a new fella she wants you to check out?”

“Could be,” I agreed cheerfully, refusing to give him the satisfaction of catching any hint of disappointment at the prospect. I just wanted her to be as happy as she deserved